


Hoist That Rag

by Usedtobehmc



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Torture, non-gendered pyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/pseuds/Usedtobehmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper goes missing and returns after 5 days.  The team tries to help him recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heave and Turn the World Around

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted some hurt-comfort in my life. Just in case you're wondering: there will be no graphic depictions of torture in this fic. It's also not finished; I'm writing this as I go, so it's sort of improv'd.

 

 

Sniper was missing and no one had a clue where he'd gone.  

 

After five days, many theories had been proposed and pursued: maybe he'd fallen into an abandoned tunnel or a secluded crevasse and injured himself, stranded though still alive.  Maybe it was a glitch in the re-spawn room.  Maybe the other team had something to do with it (that had been the most popular theory.)  Whatever had happened, he hadn't responded to the hails on the radio that they'd sent out every hour on the hour since his disappearance.  It was very unlike Sniper to be without his earpiece; after all, he prided himself on being a consummate professional at all times, never without the tools of his trade.  

 

They'd searched every inch of their own base, and Spy had taken it upon himself to search every inch of the enemy's base as well.  Engineer had pored over the re-spawn code, inspected the machines himself and found nothing out of the ordinary.  They'd even gone so far as to negotiate a parlay with the REDs, who had thoroughly denied any knowledge of the issue whatsoever.  The Administrator was incommunicado throughout the whole affair and that just made things worse: Headquarters often went radio-silent at inopportune times, but the BLU team resented it all the more this time.  

 

Five days later, dinner in the mess hall was a sad affair.  Even Scout, who usually took it upon himself to get conversation going whether or not it was needed, sat silently pushing his potatoes around on his plate.  Spy hadn't put down his cigarettes for five minutes since the team had realized that Sniper was nowhere to be found, and there were bags under his eyes; he hadn't been sleeping well.  Sniper had never been extremely talkative in a group setting, but to have one of their own missing and perhaps in peril was like a dark cloud over their heads.  And there was no relief in sight.  

 

"Hell, maybe…"  Engineer sighed and rubbed the space between his eyebrows, a clear indicator that his mind was racing.  "Maybe he took off.  Decided he didn't wanna fight no more.  Always been kind of a lone wolf."

 

"AWOL?  Impossible!"  Soldier slammed his fist down, upsetting his plate and sending flecks of food onto the table.  "My men are not lily-livered cowards who run from a fight!"

 

"I must agree with Soldier, as much as it pains me," Spy murmured, his plate untouched.  "He would not just leave without… telling us.  Something is wrong."

 

"Would not leave precious van behind," grumbled Heavy.

 

Pyro gloomily set their napkin on fire and dropped it into their water glass.  

 

They were torn from the ensuing awkward silence by the sound of Demo screaming in alarm from the locker room.  With a horrified glance to each other, the mercs sprung from their chairs and charged from the mess hall and down the narrow passage that lead to the re-spawn room.

 

Scout reached them first, screeching to a halt and exclaiming, "Holy shit!  Snipes!"

 

The tall Australian hung from where Demo supported him, with an arm thrown over his shoulders.  Demo struggled to keep him on his feet, as it was clear there was no will or strength in him to do it himself.  Sniper's head hung forward and he stared at the floor, his face pale, eyes wide and distant.  His breathing was too quick, his pupils too large.  Other than the harrowed look on his face, there appeared to be nothing different about him.  If he had indeed returned through re-spawn, it had returned him just the way he'd been before he left.  He didn't look up as the other mercs piled into the room, rushing forward with questions and exclamations of surprise.  

 

Demo pulled a flask from his back pocket, spun the cap off with one hand and offered it to Sniper.  The marksman inclined his head towards it, and Demo tipped it up, letting the numbing liquid slip into his mouth.  "Get some o' that in ya, lad.  There ya go."  Sniper coughed only once as the fiery spirit reached his belly.  With a shiver, he finally lifted his head, but the thousand-yard-stare still covered his face.  

 

Spy place a hand on Sniper's chest.  " _Where have you been_?"  The chatter and fuss of the mercs collective worry drowned out his question.  

 

"Snipes!  Snipes, where ya been?  You okay?"

 

"Fffpurhrh!"

 

"Give him room!"  Medic finally demanded, pushing the other mercs aside.  Though everyone was hesitant to listen, the obediently parted in the face of the German's commanding presence.  Except for Scout, who had to be physically lifted out of the way by Heavy.  "Silence!"  He barked, and the room quieted.  "Sniper," his tone softened, he spoke gently, voice barely above a whisper.  "Can you speak?"

 

A small, almost imperceptible nod.  

 

" _Gut.  Das ist gut_.  Can you tell us what happened?"

 

Sniper's body shook and trembled in Demo's firm grasp.  He squeezed his eyes shut, and when they re-opened he looked straight at Medic with an intensity that was truly frightening.  

 

"REDs."  He hissed, voice near unrecognizable.  " _Torture_."

 

His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.  

 

 

 

 


	2. God used me as a hammer, boys

"But I wanna help!"  Scout protested, albeit feebly as Engineer whisked him down the maze of corridors to their main control room.

 

The Texan embodied an anger and swiftness that he was not normally known for as he practically kicked the door open to the room where their main radio transmitter sat; their only means of communication with the head offices.  "And yer _gonna_ help," he insisted as he pulled up a chair to the main console.  "You're gonna take the first shift here and try to get someone on the goddamn horn."

 

Scout shuffled his feet and hesitantly approached the chair; he eyed the hulking beast of a machine with a wary eye.  "What do I do?"

 

"Call 'em.  Call 'em and don't stop until they answer or the damn thing overheats and explodes."

 

Scout took a seat and hit the call button.  There was the familiar sound of monotonous tones, accompanied by the even more familiar sound of no one answering.  "This is fucked up, right?  I mean… more'n usual?"

 

Engineer ignored the question in favor of watching the screen, waiting for someone, anyone to pick up.  Of course they didn't, and Engineer gave a frustrated growl, slamming his hardhat to the floor and kicking it across the room.  

 

The outburst startled Scout almost out of his seat.  "Jeez, man!  It's okay, I got this!  I'll do it, I'll do it.  Just go help Snipes or somethin' man."  Scout reared back, hoping not to catch an errant fist to the face as a result of Engie's fit of anger.  

 

"Someone's gonna answer for this, I tell you _right now_."  And as abruptly as it had arrived, the anger left him.  Engie leaned heavily on the console and heaved a great helpless sigh.

 

Scout hit the call button again.

 

*******

 

Medic really only did tests to satisfy Spy's overwrought nerves: he knew that he would find nothing physically wrong with the recently resurfaced Sniper.  He went through the motions of sedating the poor man, drawing some blood, inspecting his eyes and ears and mouth, even taking a few x-rays; only to find the very much expected result of nothing.  Sniper was as healthy as the day he'd first been scanned into the re-spawn system: a bit underweight (especially for an Australian), but otherwise completely fine.  The man didn't even have a cavity.  

 

But it was the only way to get Spy to stop chain-smoking and pacing with an intensity that was going to wear a hole in the tiled floor of the sick bay. 

 

"This is out of my realm, Herr Spy."  Medic placed Sniper's folder on his desk and crossed his arms.  "I deal with conditions of the body, not of the mind.  Whatever he has been through, all that remains is the memory of it."

 

Spy snatched the medical folder and glared at Medic when the doctor made a move to protest.  Medic cast his eyes skyward, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. There was no talking to Spy sometimes. Spy flipped through the results, mind racing as he tried to make sense of the medical jargon that was jotted in English and German.  "But his voice," Spy moaned in despair.  "You heard his voice."

 

Medic's frown deepened, and he kept his gaze to the floor.  He had indeed noticed that Sniper didn't sound like himself.  "Perhaps it's only temporary.  He had only just re-spawned.  Why don't you sit with him for a while?"

 

Spy threw the file back onto Medic's desk.  "I was going to, anyway."

 

"Put out that cigarette."  Medic chided, gathering the file back into an orderly arrangement.  

 

*********

 

Sniper jumped when Spy entered the sick bay, as if startled out of a light sleep.  Clad in only his undershirt and shorts, he looked unnaturally vulnerable lying under a thin sheet.  Seeing Spy, he settled back slowly into his relaxed position on the bed.  

 

"Apologies," Spy quieted his footsteps as he approached.  He took off his suit jacket and hung it over the chair at Sniper's bedside before taking a seat.  At once he felt clumsy and obvious: Sniper would see through this feeble attempt to appear casual in a heartbeat.  

 

If he did in fact notice, Sniper gave no indication.  He lay in the bed like someone who'd recently been run over by a tank.  He seemed to sink into the thin mattress, deflated and tired.  Though there was nothing physically wrong with him, he was pale and slightly clammy to the touch.  

 

"How… how are you feeling?"  Spy leaned back in the chair and tilted his head, minimizing the difference between their positions.  

 

Sniper's expression was like stone; unmoving and blank.  He shrugged and looked down at his hands.  "Headache."  

 

Spy tried to hide the fact that every word out of Sniper's mouth was like a needle in his flesh; he couldn't quite place what was different about Sniper's voice but there was definitely something there.  And he wasn't the only one who had noticed it, Medic had made that clear.  He burned and teemed with questions, but forced himself to keep from asking them.  When would be a good time to get details?  Answers?  Never, perhaps.  But the knowledge still hung heavy in the room, stretching between them like a chasm.  

 

But only a fool tries to make a journey all at once.  He had to start small.  "Would you like some coffee?  Good for headaches."

 

Sniper looked unsure.

 

All of a sudden Spy felt like a piece of driftwood, tossed about by stormy seas: completely lost and without direction.  This awkward silence was driving him mad, he had to say something, something Sniper would respond to.  Something they could talk about that was safe.  

 

"Do you… happen to remember that night?  The night we spent… in each other's company?" 

 

 _Fuck safe anyway_ , thought Spy.

 

At last, some results: Sniper's expression softened, drifting slowly away from the mask of solid tension that creased his brow and aged him prematurely.  "Six months ago?"  He asked quietly.  His eyes drifted to the left, remembering.  His fingers twitched, perhaps recalling how they'd moved across Spy's body not so long ago.  

 

"Seven, I believe.  I remember," Spy scooted his chair closer to the bed.  "I remember that you enjoy having your back scratched."  

 

Sniper saw Spy's coy grin and the side of his mouth twitched up.  

 

"I could do that again," Spy pushed down the instinct to feel supremely, ridiculously stupid.  "Perhaps… it will help your headache.  Oh, I don't know.  I just want--"

 

Sniper's hand landed on Spy's, squeezing it.  Shocked, Spy clutched back and felt his defenses crack and crumble.  It wasn't right.  It wasn't right that this man who had obviously been through so much in the past week was doing a better job at comforting the Spy than the reverse.  

 

"I have _missed_ you," Spy's voice trembled and a surge of emotion welled up from his chest until it landed behind his eyes, making them prick with moisture.  It was the first time he'd really admitted that fact to himself, let alone out loud and in front of the very one he had missed.  "Not just this past week.  But it did make me realize just how very important you are to me."  

 

Sniper's eyes seemed tired and sunken, with dark circles around the lids that made him look like he'd been punched.  But he shifted to one side of the bed and patted the empty space in a silent invitation.  

 

Spy hastily swiped at his eyes and kicked off his shoes.  As he settled in next to Sniper, he plucked his gloves off and reached back to let his bare palm settle on Sniper's back.  He scratched gently at the space between the marksman's shoulder-blades and got a grateful shiver in return.  Encouraged, he let his hand drift from one shoulder-blade to the other, then down to where the ribs began, and down further still to the base of the spine.  Sniper leaned forward to accommodate the progress and his eyes fell shut at the comforting sensation of being touched.  

 

"Yer good at that," he slurred, arcing his back in pleasure when Spy found a particularly good spot to scratch.

 

"I'm good at everything."  A rush of relief passed through his body, and Spy was so grateful for it that he almost missed the fact that they had said those exact words to each other the first time Spy had scratched Sniper's back seven months ago.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
